Cold Blood
by rottenpaperclipwrites
Summary: Everything is fine at first and then it isn't. That's it. To say anymore would be to ruin it. Harvey and Mike au with plenty of twists.
1. Chapter 1

"Your tie is crooked," the older man before him said, teasingly. "When are you ever going to learn to do this properly?" he said, smiling, as he neatened the the younger man's tie.  
Mike was happy, nearly deriliously so, as he always was when with Harvey, as he'd been the last few months.  
"I...uh..I have a question to ask you," the older man, Harvey, whispered, somewhat hesitantly.  
"Shoot. I'm all ears." came the reply, equally as hushed.  
Harvey bit down on his bottom lip, visibly anxious.  
"Would you-" he stopped and cleared his throat. "Would you marry me?"  
"MARRY YOU! HARVEY! What are you talking about? Don't you think its as bit soon?"  
At these words the older man's face visibly hardened.  
It was slight but Mike knew him well enough to know that he had hurt him deeply.  
"Harvey, shit, no. I didn't -"  
"Forget it," came the curt reply. "Wouldn't want to be late for work.,"

* * *

They were completely swamped with work, leaving precious little time for Mike to talk to Harvey. In these moments, which were rare, Harvey was either too busy or mysteriously nowhere to be found.  
His mind wandered to thoughts of Harvey and the proposal from earlier, and their relationship in general.  
What they shared was undoubtedly genuine. The kind of love you only ever found once. Where one persons secrets were both their secrets. Where they had intricate conversations within the meeting of their eyes in a simple glance.  
They might as well have been the same person.

* * *

Mentally willing the elevator to move faster, even as his phone _beeped_ and he rushed to answer the message. It was Harvey, wanting to know where Mike was. Mike could tell from the short, terse messages that Harvey was still upset about that morning.

 _where are you? downstairs waiting._

Mike didn't even bother replying, placing the phone in his pocket just as the elevator doors opened.  
He rushed outside the building, immediately seeing Harvey waiting in front of the car. He didn't expect much of a warm welcome, it still stung deeply when Harvey turned and stepped in the car just as Mike began getting closer.  
Mike followed suit, stepping into the deafening silence of the car. They drove on, Mike growing more and more unable to handle the silence anymore.  
"We can't go on-"  
"Mike." Harvey said, brusquely. "Not now."  
"I'm not a child, Harvey. We need to talk about this."  
"Seriously, Mike," he said, harsher. "Not now."

* * *

"I think I should start off with an apology." Mike began as Harvey stood at the kitchen counter and poured himself a drink. He waited for the older man to turn and face him before he continued.  
"God, I'm terrible at this." Mike bit down on his lip slightly, turning his face to the side and taking a deep breath. "It was unexpected, you know. And reaction was more of a reflex than anything else."  
For the first time that day Harvey looked properly at him, seeming to soften greatly.  
"I don't want to push it, but I need to know. I need an answer. If I asked you again, would you marry me?"  
Mike hesitated, not knowing what to say, opting for the truth. "If you asked me again three, four, years from now then who knows, then maybe yes. I don't know a out right now, Harvey. I love you, God, how I love you and someday I would love to marry you. But not now, not so soon."  
There was that deafening silence again, the earlier hardness returning to Harvey's face.  
"Three, four years from now? What would be different? I love you, Mike, and you love me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I assumed that you would want the same."  
"Why the hell are you acting like this, Harvey?" his voice rising, uncontrollably. "Yes, earlier my reaction was shit, but now I'm explaining myself and you're pushing me away. I love you, you know that. Why can't that be enough? Why would me not wanting to get married make you feel any different towards me?"  
Harvey inhaled deeply, closing his eyes before letting it go.  
"I'm tired of being your lover; your ' bed-mate '. I want to be so much more than that. I'm not willing to stay in a dead-end relationship."  
The younger man let out a deep angrily breath, a wounded look fluttered across his face before being replaced by a harder, colder expression.  
"If you aren't ' willing ' to stay in a ' dead-end relationship ', then maybe you should just move on and find someone else. Maybe it should just be over between us.'  
With that he turned around, rushing angrily out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him without another look back and no intention of ever returning.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike had spent the night in the spare bedroom of a friends apartment, and by the looks of things, that was probably where he would be spending quite a few more.  
He'd dragged himself out of the bed and in to the shower. And as much as he wished he could he couldn't just stay away from work  
He constantly avoided Harvey, not wanting to see him while his thoughts were so confused, his emotions so raw. He needed to think things over properly, but how could be when the moment he let his mind slip a million questions would bombard him, coming at him from every angle, rubbing sat on fresh cuts, not letting him go even after he was completely ripped to shreds.  
But of all the questions racing through his head, was:  
 _how? how could one question, four little words,cause this much destruction?_  
Moments like these came and went , he could lose his sense of time going over these questions. He sat, now, staring out of his office window. Looking, but not really seeing. A ' beep ' from his cell phone was enough to break him out of his reverie.  
One new message. One message from a blocked number.  
It was one sentence. He read it and reread it, not quite believing what he saw, his blood running cold.

 _i know your secret..._

"It's just a joke," he muttered to himself. Not believing it even as the words left his mouth. "Don't even humour them. Ignore it ; they'll leave you alone."  
He placed his phone back down, waiting, unconsciously, for it to beep again.

 _it isn't wise to ignore me Mike_

His palms were clammy, his breathing shallow and he wondered ' is this what fear feels like '  
His hands shook as he reached out for his phone, typing in a message too quickly.

 _i don't know what you're talking about._

Another message came through and Mike could practically hear the harsh laughter in the sound of a strangers voice. Hear the sing-song tune.

 _somebody didn't go to Harvard..._

Mikes breath caught in his throat, bile rising even as some part of mind insisted that it could still be a sick joke.

 _prison cells are cold dark places..._

The cellphone fell from his hands, landing roughly in his lap. He felt sick to his stomach. Mind fluttering from thought to thought. Somebody else knew. Somebody who could hurt him. He urged himself to pick up his phone as another message came through. Forcing himself to look, knowing that by ignoring it he wouldn't change anything.

 _Leave. Cut all ties._

It was just four words, but Mike didn't need to ask for an elaboration. Worries raced through his head, when suddenly it occurred to him : they couldn't have any physical proof.  
He almost laughed with relief. And as if the stranger could read his mind

 _don't test me._

Frantic thoughts raced through his head. This person can't be serious. They're crazy. ' But what if they are, ' he thought. ' Serious, and crazy. '  
Could he risk it, he dwelled,and decided that he couldn't. He waited for another message to come through. A stranger had destroyed his life in less than 20 minutes and he would probably never her from them again.

Okay.

He hit send before he could change his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is it true?" he thundered, walking briskly into Jessica's office.

"Good morning to you too, Harvey.

Lose the act, Jessica and don't give me shit. Is it true? Did Mike resign?"

Jessica reclined in her chair behind her desk, casually looking at the furious man before her.

"Yes. It's true."

"And you didn't stop him!?"

"It wasn't my place. It wasn't my decision to make."

She had tried, but if she wasn't going to be listened to she wasn't going to waste her breath. If Mike hadn't wanted to stay she wasn't going to force him. Even through everything she still believed in free will.

Before she had a chance to say any of this he was gone. Storming put of her office as suddenly as he had stormed into it.

Couples fight. They fight, they get angry, they don't talk for a while and, then, they 'do'. They 'do' talk and, more often than not, they make up.

That's how it's supposed to happen.

Jessica wasn't wrong in her earlier assessment of Harvey; he was furious.

Furious at Mike, at their argument, their idiocy, but above all, he was furious at himself. If he hasn't asked that ludicrous question in the first place. If he hadn't just sprung it on Mike like that. Then maybe, 'maybe', everything would be alright.

Scenes played over and over in his head, a continuous loop of everything he could have done differently.

He was sure that if it wasn't for how he had acted none of this would have happened.

He was sure that this was all his fault.

"Are you sure about this, Harvey?" she asked him.

She was concerned. How could she not be?

After Mike's disappearance he had changed. It seemed slight. On the surface there was nothing to worry about, until you looked closely and saw that there was.

Obsessive, reclusive, easily angered, manic and distracted. It was hard for Donna to see him like this. She knew in her heart that she would never forgive Mike for the destruction he had caused so unknowingly.

Mike. Michael Ross. Resigned. Disappeared, seemingly off the face of earth. Gone without any warning and all within a matter of days.

When she said disappeared, she meant disappeared - had moved out of his apartment, changed his cell number and cut all ties with them completely.

She didn't care if she never spoke to him again, but it was killing her to see what it was doing to Harvey.

"You have to be sure, Harvey." she prodded, waiting for a reply, hoping he would turn to her and tell her to forget it.

"I'm sure," he said in a subdued and silent state of anger, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes steely. Eyes that he now _did_ turn on her.

"Do it, Donna. And don't ask me again if sure, because I am and this needs to get done."

With that he turned away from her again. Not saying another word, knowing that she would do whatever it was he needed. Even if she disapproved.


	4. Chapter 4

It is truly amazing of how drastic a change a few weeks can make.

New job. New apartment. New Mike.

The first few days had been the toughest. It had seemed as if the world as he knew it was crumbling around him and soon there would be nothing left. These days had passed and now he barely thought of it. In fact, there was actually a small amount part of him that thanked his blackmailer.

He declined slightly in his chair , surveying the customers browsing the aisles in the bookshop section of the café. He smiled to himself, for the first time feeling truly at peace. Feeling a complete sense of serenity.

The day was almost over and the café completely empty, except for the staff. Mike was wiping down the counter when the bell above the door jingled. It was unusual for anyone to come in this late in the day. Mike looked up from his work surprised to see a young messenger boy. A young messenger boy with a large bouquet of flowers.

"Michael Ross." He said, walking towards him. "I'm looking for Michael Ross."

Mike looked at the boy, throat suddenly dry. He found himself unable to respond, unable to even form a coherent sentence in his mind.

There was one thing running through his mind, one name : Harvey.

Fear seized him. Fear that he was found; that he would have to leave; that he would have to start again.

"Excuse me," the messenger said, standing before him and looking directly at him. "I'm looking for Michael Ross."

Mike cleared his throat loudly, "I'm Michael Ross."

The messenger placed the bouquet on the counter, eyeing Mike questioningly. He took out his clipboard from his shoulder bag.

"Here. You'll have to sign this to say you got it. It's company policy."

Mike grabbed the pen from the outstretched hand, signing haphazardly. He watched the young man walk out. Stalling the inevitable.

He looked down at the flowers, running his fingers over the petals of the one closest to him.

"Well, aren't you going to read the card?" asked a voice from behind him.

He turned slightly, seeing Maggie, one of the waitresses. She was leaning against the counter, watching him.

He swallowed loudly, reaching shakily for the card that came with the bouquet. Reluctantly, he opened it, feeling the blood drain from his face as he read the message.

He took a seat on the chair closest to him, unable to comprehend exactly what he had read.

Oh, how he wished it had been Harvey. Because he knew how to handle Harvey. But this, this was beyond him.

' _Happy three weeks! Never has an anniversary of_

 _a promise kept made me happier. '_

It was signed , simply, 'x' ...


	5. Chapter 5

Huddled in the corner of the bathroom. The acrid adour of vomit lingered in the air; a sheen of sweat staining his skin even in the cool air.

He'd run out of that place as fast as possible, heading straight fort his apartment and his bathroom. He had no idea how long he'd sat there and hardly dared to move, for every time he did so he found himself needing to throw up.

The thought of movement, or even doing anything remotely physical, filled him with dread.

He tipped his head back against the cold tile wall, letting out a deep breath. Wishing, not for the first time, that he could turn back the clock, that he could make a different decision this time.

Wishing, too, to just have Harvey bedside him.

He lay in bed, fighting to keep his eyes closed and praying for sleep to take him. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and had expected to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He couldn't have been more wrong. He'd been tossing and turning for what seemed like forever.

Finally, he gave up; he's eyes flying open. He lau on his back staring up at the ceiling; millions of questions forming an incomprehensible medley in his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, once more wishing to fall asleep when the sound of his ringing cellphone jolted him straight up in bed.

He fumbled in the darkness, hesitating for less than a second to check the caller ID. Blocked.

His heart skipped a beat even ad his hand curled around the phone; even as he answered it and pressed it to his ear

"Hello."

He waited for a reply but none came, was greeted by nothing but silence.

"Hello...Hello, is anyone there?"

Again, no reply. But now there was the distinct sound of heavy breathing coming over the line. Mike felt that same undeniable fear creeping into his bones.

"Look, whoever this is: Leave Me The Fuck Alone."

Mike heard soft, raspy laughter. It didn't go on long and then stopped abruptly.

"You don't mean that, Mike. You really don't."

The voice was recognizable.

"What? What do you mean? Hello! Hello!"

But there was no reply. The call had been ended, leaving the monotonous dial tone ringing in Mikes ear.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N : thanks for the support.** **Hope you guys enjoy this. Advance apology for the short chapters, especially this one which, let's admit, is incredibly short. Hope what they lack in length they make up for in content. :D**

 **Saviour. Protector. Messiah. Guardian Angel.**

 **Everything he knew; everything he saw. Everything he did was all for him. Protecting him as only he could. Saving him without him ever knowing. Doing what had to be done. Doing what was right.**

 **No other would harm him, ever, he had sworn it the first time he had laid eyes on him.**

 **This was the only way. The way it had to be.**

 **If all this wasn't proof of how much he loved him, what was?**

 **"Soon, soon," he said to himself; a mantra, keeping him calm.**

 _Patience is a virtue. If you are patient you will get what you most desire._

 **"I'm fucking tired of bring patient!" he roared. "I've been patient for too long!"**

 _Just a little longer. Promise. Just a little longer._

 **Deep breaths. Hands tightening around the steering wheel. "Focus on what's there. Focus on whats real."**

 **Then there he was, just across the road.**

 _He_ **had known that he was close to losing it. Close to completely breaking down. That's why he had appeared just then.**

 **The connection between them was so powerful and it was only strengthening.**

 **How could anyone deny that what they had was genuine?**

 **The real deal. True love.**

 **How could anyone deny that they ere anything less than soul mates?**

 **Lovers destined to meet through every lifetime.**

 **"How much longer?**

 _Not much longer. The plans almost through. Be patient._

 **He stared after the object of his love, a boyish smile developing.**

 **"Not much longer." he muttered. "Not much longer. Not much longer and it will be us again.** _Be patient. "_

Saviour. Protector. Messiah. Guardian Angel.

 **Everything he was. Everything he had always been.**


	7. Chapter 7

Presents at his apartment. Flowers at the cafe. Knocks at the front door. Stones thrown at windows. Phone calls late in the evening. A ghost haunted his every step. Knowing where he was, knowing what he was doing. Always there, not just watching him from the shadows but everywhere. Every person who looked his way was him. Every person who walked in the shop was him. Every person he knew was him. Every face in the crowd was him.

Staring deep into the eyes of a stranger, wondering, _are you the one who knows so much of my life?_

Sleep had become a vacant memory, a mere wisp of a life that had once been. As much as his ghost haunted him, he haunted the walls of his apartment, finding comfort in the semblance of safety in his four walls.

He hears the ringing of a phone. Its pass midnight, he knows it can only be one person and yet he still answers. "Hello," Mike whispers, voice hoarse from misuse. He listens, waiting for a reply, knowing that none will come. The breathing on the other end got deeper. The quiet was deafening. He should have hung up, he used to, he never did now. Let the other person do it, he was too tired to try. It wouldn't make a difference anyway,would it, he would always call him back.

"What do you want? Who is this?" Old habits die hard, the question being asked before he even had time to formulate it mentally.

Silence. He expected silence. Expected nothing out of this except silence.

"Do you really want to know?"came a deep, distorted voice.

Did he really want to know? The question played itself over in his mind. Did he?

"Do you really want to know?"the voice repeated." If you do, meet me at the pier tomorrow night, nine thirty. You know the one, come alone."

Then the silence he mind,,expected earlier. Dial tone filled his ears signalling for him too to place the phone down.

Anticipation filled his every second of that next day. Anticipation resided in every corner of his mind, filling every inch of his skin. But there was a fear too; fear that Mike would not remember, that he would set eyes upon him and not see the truth, or worse - that he would see it and would deny it.

He burrowed his hands deeper into his pockets, inhaling the saltiness of the ocean. At this time of night, in this part of town, the pier was almost empty, just as he had known it would be.

He walked leisurely, enjoying the violent crashing of the waves contrasting with the quiet noise of the night. To anyone watching he was just another naïve tourist looking for a good view. In one point they would be right, he was looking for a good view. A good vantage point from which he could see everything and not be seen.

He found the perfect spot and settled in for the short wait. His well trained eyes kept watch over the surrounding area, knowing Mike's car better than he knew his own. Mere minutes passed before he saw it pulling in. He glanced at his watch, smiling to himself. Perfectly on time, like always

Mike stepped out of his car, the wind blowing back his hair and leaving his watcher breathless. It never failed to amaze him that this man belonged to him. That, in fact, they belonged to each other.

Mike walked to the end of the pier, inhaling deeply just as he had done earlier.

Now was the perfect moment, he knew, but couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off of the man. _Now do it now! While his unprepared. While his back is too you!_

He stepped out of the shadows, lightly walking towards his beloved. The other man sensed him coming, he could tell by the way his back and neck tensed. He didn't turn around, and he didn't urge him to.

When there were less than a few feet between them, when he was close enough to touch him, he opened his mouth.

"Mike."

He saw the tensing of the mans muscles at the sound of his name. _Don't hesitate._ Saw the bewilderment in his eyes as he began to turn. _Do it nnow._ ' Saw the dawning of realization as he came face to face with his torturer. ' _Now!_ He tightened his grip around the object in his pocket


	8. Chapter 8

_'Was this death?_ 'he wondered. _Was this what it felt like like to die?_

He was nowhere and everywhere - floating in an endless void of bottomless darkness. Sinking into the depths of a world that neither Heaven nor Hell.

His surroundings began to fade. Growing distant even as he clung to it. As if he were being pulled away, as if something were forcing him to resurface.

He fought. Struggled with all his might against the force dragging him back. He didn't want to leave here. Some deep part within him telling him that this place was millions of times safer than any place out there.

His vision when he opened his eyes was blurry. The cold fluorescent lights harsh against his sensitive eyes. His eyes were too heavy to keep open much longer, slowly they closed - seemingly, of their own accord.

He wanted to return to that world so much like limbo while wanting, at the same time, to be completely awake. He tried swallowing. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt heavy. The rest of him just felt numb.

There was something he felt he should be remembering ; an emotion he couldn't understand, an idea he couldn't grasp.

An alarm. A caution. A warning.

He slipped back into sleeping.

Eyes open once again. His sight less blurry. Slowly he was becoming more aware of his surroundings and of his body. The numbness was receding. His arms were heavy, his wrists sore. In vain he tried to move. Realizing, as the haziness began to lift, why he could not. _Restriction._

His hands were cuffed at the wrist behind him and chained to the chair - _WAIT A MINUTE!_ Fully awake, he was, for one complete second before he began to slip into that limbo again. _Cuffs? Chains? Why was he cuffed ttoa ch -?_

And then...nothing. He slumped forward, his head falling and his chin resting against his chest. The darkness had him again - taking him back to that limbo that was so much safer than this world.

 _But...why? What was he not remembering?_

Upon first awakening he thought he was still dreaming. He could feel himself laying down on what felt like a bed. It was thin and cold, but a bed nonetheless. Subconsciously he wondered when he had moved, hoped that the entire ordeal of the past few months had been no more than a nightmare.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes, prepared for the vicious assault of the bright light. This time around his vision was clear. Whatever drugs that had ravaged his system earlier must have been fading. He moved his arms and wrists hesitantly, relieved to find that they were not restrained.

He sat up in the bed. Turning his head side to side he groaned from the pain and stiffness in his neck.

His clothes were different from what he had had on before.

 _Someone_ had _seen_ him. _Touched_ him. Against his will. A shiver ran up his spine. He forced himself not to think about it.

He jumped up on the bed and was immediately yanked back down. Only then did he notice the cuff and chain around his left leg connecting him to the wall.

 _Chained! Chained to a wall! LLike a dog!_

"Oh, fuck! Oh, Jesus! Oh, God, no!" he ran at a loss for words, the truth that he had been trying not to see : he was completely and utterly screwed.

He stood again, quickly but more carefully. He was walking to the center of the room when he felt a hunger pang shoot through him. The thought flitted through his mid, the question on how long it had been since he had last eaten. But - like so much else - he decided to just ignore it.

He turned slowly to get a better view of the room from different angles.

The room was small, square and barely furnished. About six absolutely miniscule steps across - so, maybe more like four. The walls were a dirty brown, tired-looking shade of brown. There was a tiny window in the top far left corner of the room. Against this same wall but in the far right corner was the bed - well, it wasn't a bed so much as a thin mattress on the floor. The door was in the wall across from this .

"I'm going to regret this -" he muttered, even as he allowed himself to hope, even as he winded himself up and rammed against the door. He fell hard against the door. He fell hard on the cold floor. The chain around his ankle yanked roughly and his shoulder began to throb.

The door was completely solid. Whatever hope he had had up until that moment was slowly vanishing. He felt alone and stupid.

How had he gotten here? Who had done this?

What day was it? What had he done to deserve this?

Did he deserve this? Why couldn't he remember anything?

He sat where he had fallen, holding his head in his hands. The answers were there - somewhere. They were hazy and incomplete but they were there, he could feel them.

He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, wanted to close his eyes and sleep for all eternity. His eyes began to close, sleep threatened to take him once more. Suddenly, he jerked straight up. All thoughts of sleep chased from his mind.

He had remembered who had done this to him. Not for the first time that day a shiver ran up his spine - betrayal always chills you to the bone.


	9. Chapter 9

Diligently, he watched Mike. Laughed quietly as the events within the room unfolded before him. He did not feel any remorse for what he had done - tying him to the chair had been a cruel necessity and the chain was just the obvious next step.

They would laugh about this in the days to come. He was sure about that. Once Mike was cleansed and the impurities of this new life and soul within him extinguished. Once _Michael_ was returned.. They would laugh and they would cry over their joyous reunion.

They would feel relief that even over everything they had been brought together, again. And , above all, _Michael_ would cry - cry because after all those years trapped as Mike he would finally be free. They would cry, and kiss, and love; but first - _Stop dwelling._ For once they were not harsh in their orders. _You have him. He is almost yours. Return your Prince to his royal state. We are here. He is almost yours_

He said nothing : no reply or retort. For once their words were not shouted in anger or frustration.

 _Do you feel happy?_

"Yes...Thank you."

He said that to be polite. He could not risk angering them. He said that he was happy, but was he really? It was not happiness he felt but the anticipation of what was to come, of having what he has waited his entire life up to now for within arms reach.


	10. Chapter 10

Sudden sounds on the other side of the door jolted him awake. He was still seated where he had fallen. Quickly, he rose and walked to the center of the room deciding against going to sit on the mattress.

The sounds of locks opening and bolts moving seemed to go on forever. Mike shook out his legs, which were numb from sitting in the same position for God knows how long. A creaking came from the door as it swung open at a ridiculously slow pace.

He was glad he had chosen to stay in the center of the room. From this position he could see everything much more clearer.

Finally, the door was open enough for him to make out what was on the other side. The door, he could see, was not his only barricade. There was still a sturdy looking gate in front of it. Beyond that was darkness and if a room lay within that space he could not make it out.

A voice from beyond the gate made him jump slightly with surprise, even though he was expecting it.

"This is temporary. Don't get too comfortable."

As the man moved closer to the gate he could make out his silhouette. The body that had once been so familiar to him. He shivered and looked away.

In the gate, in that space where the latch and lock should have gone, there was a square shaped hole. Through there he held a small plastic into the room.

He didn't say a word as he held it out. Mike hurried to stand up and took the bowl quickly before the man could change his mind.

Rice. The bowl was full of rice. He was starving. Greedily, he tucked into his simple meal as the man stood and watched him. He was done within minutes. The hunger pangs more pronounced than they previously had been. He longed for something more but, wisely, said nothing. He stood once again. Walked to the gate and held the bowl in front of the hole in the gate. No hands from outside reached in to take it back. Gradually he moved his hands more and more forward until they were through the hole and out the other side.

Two seconds. Three. Four. Five

Pain shooting through his right hand. He had dropped and retracted his hand almost unconsciously. He held his arm to his to his chest. Tears straining down his face. The sound of the receding footsteps in the background. He sat down hard on the mattress. Working up the courage to look at his hand, only to look away disgusted. The skin around the knuckles was shredded and bloody. The parts of his hand not covered in blood were turning purple and beginning to swell.

More footsteps in the background heading towards the room. He stood outside the door, watching him.

"That one was for not asking first," his voice was harsh ; cold and robotic.

"Give me your other hand."

Mike hesitated. He could not find it within himself to move.

"Give. Me. Your. Other. Hand." the man did not yell, but rather, he said it in such a way that Mike knew not to trifle with him.

He placed his left hand out of the hole and waited -

This time around heard a 'sshwip' through the air before the object came down on his knuckles. Tears that he tried to keep back burned his eyes. He began to pull his hand away when, quick as a snake, the man had his wrist held in a vice - like grip.

"That was for not being grateful." he squeezed Mikes wrist ever so slightly.

"This. This is for not obeying me immediately."

Mike screamed as the torture device came down on the fresh wound. Tears freely falling down his cheeks. He held his hand to his chest, whimpering softly. Blood gushed from the wound staining his clothes and the dirt brown floor.

"Why are you doing this?" he yelled. "Why? Answer me! Trevor! Trevor!"

But Trevor continued to walk away.


	11. Chapter 11

Who was he without the firm? Who was he without Donna, Jessica and Louis? Who was he without Mike? Was he still Harvey Specter?

Yes, he was. But in the same impossibly sad way, he wasn't. And now, he had ruined everything. He had let his rage take control.

But no. He would not think about that now. Harvey turned on the radio, not even bothering with what station it was on, he just wanted to fill his head with noise. He drove around in endless circles as some song about following your love into the dark came on. Slowly his mind wandered back to that conversation he had had with Donna after Mike had resigned.

'Don't ask me again if I'm sure, because I am and this needs to get done.'

She hadn't asked him again, though she had made it pretty clear what she thought about what he was doing.

'Really, Harvey. A complete record of everywhere Mike's been in the last few months. This is crazy. You're better off just forgetting about him.'

But it had not just been about the places Mike had been, it was a complete dossier weigh phone records and addresses; everything.

He'd used that to keep track of Mike. Had thrown everything away for Mike. And then, he had thrown away Mike, too.

But no. He would not think about that now. The song on the radio died away, the car filling with the voices of radio hosts. He drove on blindly, without any idea of where he was, what time it was, or even how long he had been driving. He didn't care, he needed to drown himself, needed to keep busy.

He'd followed Mike that night. Followed him to the pier. Had seen and watched as the entire thing too place. Had had multiple chances to stop it. Had had multiple chances to, then, follow the car. Had had multiple chances to _do_ something.

But he hadn't done as anything, not even called the police.

He had sat and watched everything and he froze, a major part of him thinking that Mike deserved whatever came to him.

So, don't you see, he was there. It was his fault that Mike was taken. He could have saved him, but he hadn't. It was all his fault.

He had to do something now, had to save him now, but he didn't even know where to begin.


	12. Chapter 12

"Take off your clothes."

Mike heard the voice as if from far away. Distant and distorted as if through miles of never ending water. A fragmented echo coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

He opened his sleep encrusted eyes to the fluorescent lights. Trevor stood framed within the doorway of the room.

"Morning, love."

The words flew over Mike's head. The concept of morning, of day and night, of time, had gradually been growing more and more foreign to him as his days wiled away in this room of endless bright light.

He sat up in the bed, moving steadily and carefully. His throat was dry, lips cracked, he longed for a cool drink of water. Would have killed for even a sip.

Trevor hurried closer to the bed. He held out his right hand, waited for Mike to give him his and then, tenderly helped him up.

As Mike stood, Trevor bent down removing a key from his pocket and placing it in the cuff around Mike's ankle.

He stood and took a step away from the mattress. A smile played at the corner of his lips, "Take off your clothes."

Mikes hands moved slowly over his own body as he removed first his filthy shirt then his equally as filthy pants. Stark naked he stood, feeling nothing but a blank emptiness, his arms to his sides.

His once beautiful body damaged to beyond recognition. Bruises lay where cold hands had roughly made contact. Open wounds where a thin metal rod had struck struck his skin. Few wounds only now healing; some feeling like they never would. Blood and dirt mixing and congealing, covering him in a thin film.

Trevor turned slightly, walking the short space to the door.

If this had been two weeks earlier, if Mike had not been aware of the threat before him, if Mike was anyone else, he would have tried to make a run for it.

But it wasn't, and he was, and he wasn't, and he couldn't.

His broken body would not allow it. The strength needed to act could not be summoned. Bones jutted out where they should not have. His skeleton on full display; his legs and arms, meatless; the cage his ribs created adorning his chest.

Trevor stood before him once again. He had brought in with him two buckets filled to the rim with water - one soapy, one clear - and a bath sponge.

He dipped the sponge into the soapy water. With an affectionate touch he began to scrub away at the grime covering Mike's body.

"Your body may be damaged, but it is only temporarily. You will heal and you will be more beautiful than ever before." Trevor's voice filled up every inch of the room, a strange and unlikely comfort.

A beautiful, soft, luxurious length of material caressed Mike's body. Trevor maneuvering the towel with careful expertise.

In that moment it was hard for Mike to not feel a sense of being cared for. He hadn't felt cared for in so long that the realisation struck him.

His body was dry and the towel removed. Once again he was left standing undressed, his feet now cold and wet from the puddle gathered there.

Trevor gathered up the buckets and briefly left the room. Mike wrapped his bony arms around himself, the cold beginning to seep in. Trevor returned, his face lit up with a bright smile. He carried before him a neatly folded parcel.

"I come bearing gifts," his smile broadened as he spoke, dimming once he looks at Mike.

"Michael?" he prodded. "Michael, is something wrong? I know that things have been hard, but now everything will be better. You have returned to me. My beautiful prince. Smile. Smile, for we are together again."

Mike looked at the other man directly in the eyes, saw the look of the crazed hiding behind those beautiful eyes.

"Trevor." He tested the name on his tongue for the first time after so many years. His voice harsh and cracking, yet still beautiful. "Trevor. We are together again."

And he forced himself to smile.


	13. Chapter 13

_Look at him._ they whispered. _Look at him. Our king, your prince. Like the caterpillar and metamorphosis, the pain has made him more beautiful._

Trevor saw that they were right, they were never not right.

Dressed in the emerald green shirt and dark pants Mike stood before him. This was what Trevor had brougt in neatly folded earlier.

 _Look at him, Trevor._ They were insistent. _Look at our masterpiece._

Trevor obeyed, as he always did - this time quite willfully. Watching Mike as he checked and rechecked his shirt buttons, smoothed his hands over his pants sides.

"Stop it," Trevor said, reaching out and holding onto the others wrists. "You look perfect."

As always when he touched him, his body tensed up. Trevor did not mind, soon it will stop, soon Mike would long, no, _beg,_ for his touch.

The smile on Trevor's face flickered for a brief second, gone and returned - barely noticeable.

He let go of Mike and reached into his pocket.

"Turn around." His voice was low, with only the slightest edge.

Mike did so, Trevor's hands reaching over his head. Immediately, he was blinded. Trevor tightened the blindfold around his head and began to steer him out the door.

Fear seized Mike as the darkness enveloped him. Trevor's hands on his back as he gently propelled him forward. The door shut behind them. A walk down a short passage.

"Be careful. Stairs."

A slight piush: a slight stumble. Up a short flight of stairs. The sound of another door opening and closing as they passed through it.

More walking. Mike's heart racing, fast enough to break through his rib cage, loud enough to burst their ear drums.

Abruptly, they stopped. Shiver running through his body. Sure certainty that he was going to die.

Trevor's fingers at the back of his head. Untying the knot, taking the blindfold away.

They stood before a beautifully painted closed door. Royal blue. Enchanting.

Trevor's voice from behind him; distant yet he spoke close to his ear.

Breath on his kneck, "Open the door."

Hand around the shiny brass doorknob, tightening, turning. The door opening slowly, him stepping into the room.

He felt separate from himself, gone. Watching himself from everywhere.

The room felt familiar, it shouldn't have but it did.

He heard himself speak, felt himself go cold as the words left his mouth. "I'm scared, Trevor. I don't know what is happening and I am scared."


	14. Chapter 14

The words left Mike's mouth. Immediately, he regretted them. Immediately, he wanted to take them back.

Trevor turned his back on Mike and the room, pulling the door close behind him. The sound of the locks turning reached Mike's ears.

That had been two hours ago. He knew. He had sat and watched the clock ticking the day away. Like a lullaby, the steady rhythm working him into a calm solemnity.

The softness of an actual bed, the safety of a furnished room, the simple comfort of a set of clean clothes, the beautiful comfort of cleanliness - all these things they enveloped him.

The spacious room filled with floor - to - ceiling blues and greens and greys. It was peaceful: serene.

The thought popped into his head. Guilt washed through him.

What was wrong with him? _Peace? Serenity?_ How could he feel this? After everything that had been done to him.

 _How could he?_

He wanted to hate these clothes, wanted to hate this room and Trevor _and_ Harvey. He wanted to hate everything and everyone.

But he couldn't. He could only manage to hate himself.

The windows were barred from the outside and locked securely. Beyond them lay expanses of forest; beyond them lay freedom.

Mike sat cross legged on the bed. Staring out the window he was lost in his own world. The door began to open, snapping him to attention. He had not heard the locks being turned.

Trevor entered the room, bringing with him a dinner cart, fully laden. He began to set the food upon the floor and placed two cushions where they should sit. He took a seat, looking at Mike expectantly.

They sat around the food, legs akimbo. Trevor poured red wine into their glasses and began to eat.

Lack of food over the past few weeks had left Mike's appetite poor. He ate anyway, knowing better than to anger Trevor.

"Michael -"

Mike looked up at the sound of his name, "Yes."

"You look beautiful. Like you always do. Like you always have done."

And then, without warning, he launched into a story.


	15. Chapter 15

"Billions of years ago. Before the world was born; before it was even an idea - there was us. Particles of dust, of stars, of eternity, bound together by the universe itself. The beginning and end of time. The beginning and end of everything.

Then, this happened. The birth of this world an explosion tearing apart the fabric of the cosmos as we knew it. It was beautiful and painful - blindingly so.

We were separated. The days were both never ending and too quick to pass. Time was an impenetrable fortress - the days running into each other while each taking forever to end.

Never did I forget you, searching ceaselessly. When I found you, it was as if everything righted itself. The world made sense - because you were there.

We never let each other go. Finding each other through every lifetime. Again, and again, and again.

Sometimes, our love was forbidden. Sometimes, it was deemed crude, or unworthy. Sometimes, they would try to separate us. Fools, they were - never succeeding.

If _death_ could not; if _God_ could not! Then who were they! Nothing!" His voice had slowly been rising as he made it through their story.

He stood waving his arms manically, his eyes glazed over, blood rushing to his face. His voice trailed off, the room plunged suddenly into silence. Heavily he breathed, a frown across his face.

He kneeled before Mike, caressing his face within his own hands. "I'm sorry, Michael, that you had to see that. Forgive me, I'm so sorry. Forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you."

"Good." Trevor's thumbs traced right circles in Mike's skin.

He leaned forward resting his forehead against Mike's and spoke in a whisper, "We found each other. Through every lifetime, we did. It is destiny. This time it is different. This time, _they_ tell me, there is greatness awaiting us. We must be joined in the most unbreakable of ways, the most binding."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against Mike's. Continuing even as the kiss was not returned. He removed his hands from Mike's face, placing them lightly on his neck.

He pulled away, eyes lingering over Mike's face, "Michael? Is something wrong?"

He did not wait for any reply, placed his lips once more against Mike - taking pleasure when the other man began to kiss him back.

Kissing him more roughly. Separating Mike's lips with his tongue. Roaming his hands over Mike's body.

They separated once more. Trevor stood, pulling Mike with him. He lead him by his hand to the bed, laying him down flat on his back.

Trevor looked down at him, his eyes shining bright.

"You _are_ going to enjoy this."

How many times had it happened now? Six times, ten, twenty, millions?

Hardly ever gentle; hardly ever caring.

Bruises painted over his skin. Old wounds reopened. Constant excruciating pain blazed through the bottom half of Mike's body.

Sometimes, Trevor would lay beside him in bed. Their bodies pressed tight against each other - as if they were lovers.

Kissing his neck lovingly, nibbling on his ear playfully, he would tell him _their_ stories.

A street urchin and a royal servant boy; a painter and his muse; a photographer and his model.

Whisper these stories to him and then leave.

The door would lock behind him. Mike would lay alone in the room, praying for the dark to swallow him whole. Curled up on his side, or staring at the ceiling. Tears would flow uncontrollably down his cheeks, staining the pillow.

 _Violated._


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I'm not a huge fan of these author's notes before chapters, but I think you guys deserve an apology. I've just been really, really busy and unable to get online - on the bright side I had time to finish the fic. Hope you guys enjoy!

The room they had been using as an office was cluttered. Boxes of information lay everywhere, large map on the wall riddled with tacks and string.

Hunched over a file in the midst of all these boxes, an unrecognisable figure. Crumpled and in need of a good shave.

Bloodshot eyes and beard; the ' drunk homeless man ' look was not a look that suited Harvey.

Across the room, in front of a computer screen, sat Donna. Her presence a lively, refreshing one. In truth, for all her outward positivity, she was beginning to feel all hope slowly draining away : Every moment that they were not finding Mike was a moment that Mike could be dying.

For all they knew, he was already dead.

"This is hopeless." Harvey's voice a more angry echo of what it once was. He flung the file he had just been reading across the room. The frustration inside him coming to a boil.

He stood and made his way to Donna's workstation.

"What are you doing? Are you finding anything?" he demanded, peering over her shoulder.

"I'm checking for any property -"

"We already did that. _Remember?_ It was one of the first things that we did. _Remember?"_

"' _Yes, Harvey,_ I know. That first search I did was on ' Trevor ' , but then I got to thinking: Property under a _different_ name."

"Oh... Um... Any leads?"

"Nothing concrete yet. But I have faith in this, Harvey, I think that you should too."

Harvey dipped his head, the pain and worry filled him to the brim, threatened to burst out of him. The so far fruitless search taking a toll on his soul.

Donna's voice broke through to him, tinged with concern,"Maybe you should have a bit of a rest, Harvey. I'll be okay on my own for awhile."

He did not say anything, nodded his head in solemn agreement, shuffled out the room door.

Donna was a gift from a higher power. Of course, a rest was exactly what he had needed. His mind was cleared and he was once again focused.

He was back in the office going through the files with greater efficiency than before.

At first, he had not seen the purpose of what he was doing : looking into every case that Trevor had worked on.

Bringing up the futility of his task with Donna the only reply he got was,"You want to to get to know 'every' aspect of him. How was he in a courtroom? What was his success rate? See him through different eyes."

That was it; the beginning and end of the matter. He may not have agreed or understood, but he was never one to argue against Donna.

A quiet that was not unpleasant grew between them, the sounds of pages turning and keys on the keyboard clicking the only ones filling up the room.

Donna inhaled deeply, exhaling loud. Harvey immediately dropped what he was holding and ran to her.

"I've found something," she spoke at record speed, her fingers moving like spiders over the keyboard even faster. "I mean, it isn't exactly what I had been searching for - it's much better."

Impatiently, Harvey waited. An excited fear gripped him tight.

"See, Trevor had been working this case not one before he retired. His client was this widower billionaire - his name isn't given - who lost his entire family in a fire years earlier. No idea what case it was, but Trevor won. This man, then, kind of took him under his wing. He fell ill last year, no one knew what was wrong, not even the doctors. I guess Trevor was the only family he had at that point because he left almost everything to him. Including thus house."

Donna pointed to the screen where a picture of Trevor and an attractive man who looked about forty filled the screen. They stood before a large, beautiful country house, seemingly unaware of the camera on them.

"How did you find this?" Breathless.

"This backwater newspaper printed an entire article about it. And, similar to my earlier theory, the house itself is signed under a different name : Trevor Michael Ross.

Harvey, Trevor's client died ten months ago. Trevor got the house nine months ago. Mike disappeared eight months ago."

Their eyes met, grave realisation hitting.


	17. Chapter 17

Donna's voice, powerful and strong, as she spoke on the phone mixed in with the wind and filled in the space around them.

Shed called the detective assigned to Mike's case - whose name neither of them had bothered to learn - and told him everything that they found.

"We'll meet at your office. Stay put." the detective had said with such urgency.

Too late. They were already in a car driving to a large country house two hours away.

Donna emailed them the address, along with an explanation and apology - leave it to her to always be courteous.

"They'll meet us there," she said, turning to look at Harvey.

It had been Donna, all those months ago, who convinced Harvey to take it to the police.

Omissions had to be made, precautions taken, cover - ups; lies.

As far as they were concerned it was a simple missing persons case - nothing more.

They were never told about Trevor, for the fear of implicating Harvey. They definitely were never expected to make any progress.

Their involvement had been for this sole purpose: To back then up when they found Trevor.

Donna and Harvey never expected anything more from them.

Harvey's hands were gripped tight around the steering wheel, his knuckles showing white.

"It's going to be okay, Harvey."

Donna, bringing a temporary calm to the storm raging in his mind.

"He's going to be okay."

Harvey allowed himself, forced himself, to believe that the quiver in Donna's voice was more like hope than fear.

Harvey allowed himself to believe that it was really going to be okay.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: What? Another one?These things just keep popping up.

So, I don't write any explicit material, but there may be some stuff that could make a person uncomfortable. x x x

The house had become _theirs_ \- each room magnificently furnished. Breakfast prepared by Trevor before Mike woke, eaten together over strained conversation. Trevor hovered in the background, constantly, as Mike cleaned _their_ house. The sound of music playing barely audible to accompany Mike's work.

Hours would pass as Mike tirelessly worked cleaning _their_ house until it was spotless. When it was, Trevor made tea. Watching Mike closely as they finished it off, waiting for it.

Nothing that Trevor did now could truly surprise him. The first time he had lead him to the main bathroom - the colours of mint and blue overpowering - it was meaningless, a simple shower for Mike to clean up.

But the next time, and the time after that...

Trevor watched from the doorway ass Mike undressed, slowly.

"Leave the curtain," was his first quiet order.

Feasting his eyes upon Mike as the water in the shower began to run, the bathroom filling with steam.

Caressing Mike with his eyes as he lathered himself in soap. Doling out demands at random as his fancy took.

Sometimes, too, he would be joined by Trevor. Trevor convincing himself that Mike's tears were nothing but shower spray. Often, once Mike was out of the shower he would help him dry off - other times he would just watch. The walk to the bedroom would come not long after, once Mike was fully dressed. Where, according to Trevor, they made love; according to Mike, he was killed repeatedly.

Mike was cleaning the living room, in a rare moment when he was left alone, when he heard the familiar noise. A car driving past, stopping not far down the road. That in of itself was strange, few cars drove down this back - alley road, fewer would ever have reason to stop. Trevor emerged through the doorway, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Did you hear something?" He queried, looking at Mike as he shook his head.

Tension and dread filled up every space in the car and in their minds. The road leading up to the house was uninhabited, empty except for nature.

They drove beyond the house unhurriedly, unable to look completely away from it. Harvey parked the car not far from the house, in a spot where they were hidden but could still see everything clearly.

They sat in the car, unmoving.

"I'm going in there." Harvey spoke definitely.

He had already opened the door, was halfway out the door, when he felt the weight of a hand lightly press on his upper arm. The touch, as delicate as it was, it stopped him in his tracks. He turned his body uncomfortably to face Donna.

"This isn't the way to go, Harve. You go in there like this - unprepared - you don't know what could happen. Everything has been emailed to that detective. They're on their way."

He inhaled deeply, moved back into the car, shutting the door behind him.

They settled in the silence, together for the wait.


	19. Chapter 19

_What have you done?_

 _What have you done to me?_

Everything was wrong. Everything.

From the moment this began, it was destined to fail.

As if, there were a God up there playing with them; as if, they were mere toys. No more than a joke, being laughed upon, a higher power finding joy in their sufferance.

Black police cars - stealth - around the back of the house. Parking in behind Donna and Harvey.

 _Fast forward_

"Don't worry this guy is a master in the field." Police.

"No negotiator will be able to get through to Trevor, not like I can." Harvey.

"Sir, we have this handled."

"Put me in front. I'll speak to him - I know how to speak to him."

"Sir -"

"No. Put me in front. I'll speak to him."

And there Harvey was. The Harve Specter of before - brilliant, beautiful, charm flowing from every inch of him. Police surrounded him, negotiators stood beside him. He wasn't right out front, but he was still there.

And then Harvey wasn't. The sound of an explosion filling the air. Bullets flying through the air. In the blink of an eye - the shining star put out, the flame of a candle put out.

So many of them: there, and then, not.

 _What have you done?_

 _What have you done to us?_

The world is painted a darkening red - thank you, Trevor.

But wait...


	20. Chapter 20

*three months later*

"How are you doing?" the concern in his voice, apparent.

"How do the doctors say I'm doing?" the reply, distant; medicated.

The silence between them, so evidently empty, stretched on for years. So much that each of them knew. Neither one of them willing to bring life to the words.

Up until now, filling the time with what was mostly meaningless conversation.

Harvey smiled awkwardly; gravely,"You'll be better, Mike. "

Mike leaned back in the chair, stared up at the ceiling. White covered him almost head - to - toe, blending him in with the surroundings.

The lounge and visiting area in which they sat was bustling with the sound of chatter. Comfortable chairs that hugged you. Nurses and plain clothed security scattered all over the place, constantly on guard - observant.

Mike dropped his head, examining the table between them before looking Harvey in the eye.

"I'm sorry-" he choked on his words, stopping mid - sentence.

For the first time since he began visiting, Harvey reached out and touched Mike on the hand.

Leaving it there when Mike did not put up any resistance.

He kept quiet. Knowing Mike well enough to know that he will speak to him in his own time, without any prompt from Harvey.

"They've got me to see a psychiatrist, and I'm on these ' temporary ' meds." he choked on a sob, holding it back. "Those things, Harvey, that they're saying I did - that I did - I just cant... I just can't believe it."

He pulled his hands away from Harvey, clutching them to his sides as if he were cold, or trying to keep himself from falling to pieces.

"There are some things I remember so vividly. That first few months, the basement, the chains. How his hands were either very clammy or very cold. The taste of him. The smell of him," his eyes had glazed over as he spoke. He was far away, lost in his mind. The sight of him, the words he spoke, wracking Harvey with so much pain. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "Some things are so clear, and there's other things that just aren't. Things that are present, but are just wisps of hazy memories that belong to someone else."

He wiped the tear away with the back of his hand.

"How can you stand to look at me, Harvey? How can you stand to see me and touch me when you know what I am? A murderer."

You're asking yourself: How did I miss this?

What did I miss? How could I have missed this?

What happened?

He is dead. He was dead. Will always be dead. Trevor.

Killed, murdered, massacred, slaughtered, self defensed - call it what you like. It doesn't change the fact that it was Mike. Over one of their beautiful morning meals. He had his chance and he took it, he got rid of his tyrant.

Stood behind him as he ate his breakfast, holding a beautiful, sharp butcher knife. One slash to the throat. Killed him instantly.

Psychoses?

The doctors aren't even sure. They haven't seen anything even remotely like this before.

For two and a half months he kept himself prisoner. Well, not exactly, if you asked him, Trevor was still very much alive.

All over the house, anywhere you look, you're likely to some trace of Trevor still. On the walls in the kitchen, on the floor from his body being dragged from room to room.

Go to the house, see for yourself.

And if you can't go and see for yourself, take a good long look into Mike's eyes.

Trevor will never cease haunting him.

Harvey returned the next day. The previous day's conversation weighed heavily on them, neither one feeling like talking. They spent the hours together in the garden listening enraptured to the sounds of nature - just letting it envelope them.

Day after day, Harvey went back to the hospital, not willing to give up on Mike.

"How are you, Harvey?" genuine emotion that had not been there since he started with the medication.

"Let me tell you a few things: Hospital food is not fun for more than a month, and winter is especially cold without you," he said, laughter creeping in.

Mike smiled, if only briefly, "And Donna?"

Harvey inhaled sharply and averted his eyes away from Mike,"It isn't the best news. "

"I know. Tell me."

"She's in a coma - I don't know all the details. But she's stable."

The conversation faded off, once again leaving them in their silence.

"You know that none of this was really your fault Mike. Don't you?" the urgency apparent.

"It's all my fault - all of this. It was by my hand that Trevor died. By my hand that you got shot twice, that put Donna in a coma; and those cops are either injured or dead, too. Don't say it isn't my fault - it was all my fault."

The look on Mike's face was that of a person who has finally been able to say something that had weighed on them for a very long time.

"You suffered, Mike. With everything that was done to you - None of what happened was your fault."

Mike looked off in the distance somewhere beyond Harvey's right shoulder, seeming to not have heard him.

"How much longer till I'm out of here?"

"The doctors say you're getting better. They're continuing observations and if carry on like this they think it'll be another four months."

"Four months?" He bit down on his bottom lip forlornly. "And you'll come and see me often? You'll stay?"

"I'll see you as much as I can. I'll stay. And, when this thing is over... Maybe we could say goodbye to the city?"

 _Dear Harvey,_ _I love you and I'm so sorry that it's happen this way. I'm scared; scared of myself and what I may do to you._ _Don't look for me. I love you. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you. I'm so sorry._ _Mike Ross..._

 **a/n: I don't know how you guys felt about this ending but its been stressing me out... like seriously I haven't been sleeping at all. So I started writing this short fic (its only going to be a few chapters) just to give Mike and Harvey closure and end the story. It's called Before I Forget You and you'll can check it out.**


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